Turnbuckle placed the apple carefully on the tee, planted his feet firmly beside it, and gave a few practice swings. “I must say, Madame Goose, I rather wish I’d gone too, it seemed,” he said, pausing and muttering to himself as he teed off, watching the fruit sail through the air, “like quite the adventure.”
“Good shot, eh,” said the Count, shielding his eyes from the ever-present sunset.
“Oh, fabulous, darling!” said Lobelia, throwing her arms around Turnbuckle. The force of it caused the two to fall over, tumbling slightly down the gentle hill. As ever, Madame Oakworth giggled at the rear of the group.
The goose honked quietly, placing her apple carefully on the tee and taking her club into her beak.
“Do you think he’ll be back, pip pip?” asked Pip, watching the goose take stock of the course.
“Oh undoubtedly,” said the Count, absentmindedly taking a bite out of his apple, “no good for the plays if the actors are always dying, eh? And what are we all, if not actors on the stage of life?” He swallowed, then looked at the fruit in his hand. “Oh, bother,” he muttered, shaking his head. He left the group to pick another, his companions mumbling to themselves about the truth of his words, before erupting into a cheer as the goose’s apple arced gently through the air, bouncing a few times and coming to rest a few yards ahead of Turnbuckle’s.
“Bravo, Madame Goose, bravo!” cried the Count, returning with a fresh apple in hand.
“Wonderful stuff, goosey, you really are the best of us!” said Lobelia, dreamily.
“Corker! Just like the Prince’s head, eh?!” said Turnbuckle. As he did so, the light dimmed, a cloud passing over the vast sun in the distance, ever-hovering at the most beautiful point of sunset. The group quieted.
“Strange,” said Turnbuckle, bushy eyebrows furrowing somewhat.
“Wasn’t there before,” said the Count.
“Oh, I hope it doesn’t stay, it does make it all ever so dreary,” said Lobelia.
“Pip pip…” said Pip.
Madame Oakworth did not giggle.
The group stood watching the cloud for hours, until eventually it drifted past and the light returned, glinting upon a selenite tower in the distance.
“Well. That was ruddy glum, wasn’t it?”
“Quite.”
“I’m not sure it’s the moment for golf any more.”
“No, perhaps not.”
“Mm.”
“…”
“Checkers?”
